


Mr. Holmes, may I?

by janetimothyfreeman



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Hair Washing, Kind of hair kink? Idk, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2018-02-04 00:07:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1760319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janetimothyfreeman/pseuds/janetimothyfreeman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg spills some dirt on Mycroft's head. Washing the other's hair, however, he makes interesting assumptions...</p><p>"Swallowing hard.</p><p>Eyes closed.</p><p>Legs crossed.</p><p>Hands on the front of the hips, covering his…</p><p>Oh."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mr. Holmes, may I?

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, guys!
> 
> I was hanging around the beauty saloon here and this idea came to my mind! I really hope you enjoy it! :D
> 
> Thank you for reading!

“Anthea?”

“It’s Mary this time, sir.”

Mycroft only rolled his eyes, trying to remove the nickname “Bloody Mary” from his mind.

“Mary, how is the investigation doing?”

“D.I. Lestrade is in charge, with all his team: Sgt. Donovan, Anderson. Also, John Watson and…” She stopped on her track, what seriously concerned Mycroft. It was unusual. He looked at where she was staring. “Sherlock.”

“Hello, brother dear of mine.”

Mycroft smiled.

“Good evening, Sherlock. The weather is nice, don’t you think? All the stars visible in the sky. A nice day for a murder.”

Sherlock smirked.

“I want to know what you’re doing here and, since John and I are heading Baker Street soon, answer me quickly.”

Mycroft hooked his umbrella on his left arm, since his left hand was already carring some important documents, and started to gesture (he knew Sherlock hated it):

“Brother dear, what is the rush? Such a nice… Damn!”

Sherlock just stepped on his foot. Caught off guard, Mycroft let the documents slip. “Why are you doing this, you brat?”

The detective smiled widely.

“Oh, Mycroft, what is the need of swearing? Such a nice evening, isn’t it? John!”

* * *

“Greg, are you sure you don’t want my help?”

“That’s fine, John, thank you.” He adjusted the huge bowl of mud and blood between his two hands, trying to not spill. “The rest of the team is occupied and you’re not supposed to this kind of work. Sherlock would kill me.”

John laughed.

“Don’t be so serious, Greg. Sherlock can be very bothersome sometimes, but he’s not that cocky, you know.”

“John! I’m leaving without you!”

“Geez, I’m coming!” He rushed forward. “Sorry, Greg. See you friday!”

“You bet! At the usual pub, ‘kay?”

The D.I. smiled, looking at the pair with a mix of happiness, admiration and a bit of jealousy. They’re so great together, good friends indeed!...

Suddenly, Greg hit something and almost all the content of the bowl was wasted.

“Wait, what are you doing, kneeling in the middle of the way!”

He was even more surprised to see Mycroft lifting from where he was kneeling, all the mud and the blood streaming from his hair. “D.I. Lestrade, it’s nice to see you too. How are you?”

“Oh, Mr. Holmes! I’m so, so sorry! Let me help you, please!” All the people around the world, and he just had to spill a bowl full of dirt on Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock’s brother and one of the most powerful men in England! What a lucky day!

“You don’t need to…”

“Please, I insist. My place is near and my shift is already over.” Mycroft agreed with a nod. “‘Kay, guys, I’m leaving for today. Good work!”

* * *

“Please, come in.”

“Thank you, D.I., but I don’t think…”

“Please, sir, call me ‘Greg’. We’re not at service right now.”

“As you wish.”

“The bathroom is this way, Mr. Holmes.”

Mycroft followed him, looking at the walls, the ceiling, the furniture…

“My place is a bit small, don’t ya think?”

“Oh, don’t mind me, Greg. I’m curious, that’s all.”

Greg came back to the kitchen and got a chair.

“Wait, what are you doing?”

He placed it in front of the sink.

“What do you mean? I’m going to wash your hair, of course. Also, I’ll wash your clothes later. My clothes are a bit simple, but it’s the best I can do.”

The horrified look in Mycroft’s face caught Greg’s attention.

“What is it, Mr. Holmes? Look, I can call your driver if this is too much and-”

He could hear the other swallowing.

“Don’t worry, Greg. Anything is fine, thank you.” Then, he sat in the chair and inclined his head.

Greg let the water run free on the ginger hair, putting the shampoo near him. He could almost see the tension on Mycroft’s body.

“May I?”

After the other's agreement, sighing silently, he put some of the product in his hand and started to massage the hair, which was very soft. Indeed, it was way softer than Greg had expected. “ _Well, I should’ve known better_ ”, he thought, _“since Mycroft’s so rich. Perhaps that’s why he’s so tense. My products are so cheap, he may be afraid of ruining all this softness.”_

“Everything’s fine, Greg. Don’t worry yourself.”

Greg almost jumped.

“How can you tell-”

“You’re rubbing the same spot for some time now.”

The D.I. grinned.

“You’re as observant as Sherlock.”

“Please”, Mycroft snorted. “I’m better than him.”

“Right, right.” Both chuckled. Greg kept going, more relieved now that the tension seemed to go away. However, soon enough he notice something a bit strange about Mycroft…

_Swallowing hard._

_Eyes closed._

_Legs crossed._

_Hands on the front of the hips, covering his…_

_Oh._

Of course, Mycroft wasn’t in that state, Greg was just imagining things… But, when one small moan escaped the other's mouth, the D.I. became sure of his own assumption.

It was a surprisingly discover and, yet, not unpleasant.

His mind was going blank, trying to think of what to do. He was single (divorced for some time now), clean and, God know, his last shag was… When was it? He couldn’t even remember! But Mycroft was Sherlock’s brother…

_Oh, I’m going to burn in hell._

“Wait, Greg, what are you doing?” He tried to stop the other from wetting all of him, but it was useless against the D.I. fast movements. “Why are you doing this? Are you putting a prank on me?”

Greg closed the faucet, walked to Mycroft’s front, kneeled and grabbed his hands, saying with (he hoped) his most sexy expression.

“I am not puttin’ a prank on you, Myc. In fact, I’m trying to do something more interesting. I’m sorry, but I think you’ll need to take a full shower.” He bit Mycroft’s earlobe, earning a moan as response. He whispered: “ _With. Me._ What do you say?”

Mycroft’s kiss was a good answer.


End file.
